


Angel of Small Death & Codeine Scene

by Doodsxd



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alliteration, Character Study, Dark, Drabble, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Non-Chronological, Post-Season/Series 03, Psychoanalysis, Psychological Drama, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Roman Catholicism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 16:24:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6573454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doodsxd/pseuds/Doodsxd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A veil, as it poses, is a gateway that can lead to an endless number of possibilities. One can never know what it will reveal from its hidden depths, nor can control the abyss that will look back into them. Not to mention the utter responsibility erected for the exposer over the very thing they unleashed into the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I – I watch the work of my kin bold and boyful

**Author's Note:**

> Hello,
> 
> I finally gathered wits to watch Hannibal's season 3. I haven't finished yet, but I had the urge to write something, anything, to alleviate the darkness crawling at the back of my head. Writing was always my way to liberate myself from unwanted/unanalyzed feelings, so, there. 
> 
> Also, It's been a while since I tried my hand with Photoshop. I wanted to post this figure because it seemed very fitting. Its name is El Ángel Caído, 1877, by Ricardo Bellver. The photograph used is from The Society of Classical Poets database. It was molded in plaster and bronze plated, and it gathers offers from religious folk since it was placed in Parque del Buen Retiro, in Madrid, despite the City Hall's prohibition. It was inspired by John Milton's words from El paraíso perdido (Paradise Lost), the first Chant, and it goes like this:
> 
> "Por su orgullo cae arrojado del cielo con toda su hueste de ángeles rebeldes para no volver a él jamás. Agita en derredor sus miradas, y blasfemo las fija en el empíreo, reflejándose en ellas el dolor más hondo, la consternación más grande, la soberbia más funesta y el odio más obstinado."
> 
> I've been with the worst headache for three consecutive days and there isn't painkiller that can hold it at bay long enough for me to think clearly, so I apologize for the long notes and the lack of translation. Just wanted to publish this in order to exorcise myself, so I can move on and resume watching the series. 
> 
> The title comes from Hozier - Angel of Small Death and Codeine scene, from which came the chapters names, too. 
> 
> If you want a sequel, or only for me to continue, tell me. I won't promise anything, but it's always good to see your work appreciated to the point of leaving someone wanting more. 
> 
> Thank you for bearing the long notes with me, 
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

# 

# Part I – I watch the work of my kin bold and boyful

 

_In the name of the Father; of the Son; of the Holy Spirit._

 

“Unforgivable?”

“Yes.”

“How can love be unforgivable, Will? It is but an emotion, and emotions are not rational beings. They cannot be controlled by its master as reason can. Therefore, they must not be judged as reason is. It does not bear the marks and trudges of mistakes, for they cannot be weighted as such.”

“Hm.”

“You disagree.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Reason does not exist by itself, Hannibal. Perhaps it doesn’t even exist at all.”

 

 

William Graham has _wings_.

He is the fallen angel, he is the alluring sound, the sweetest [diseased] scent; William Graham is a role Hannibal could not have predicted in a million lifetimes. Bella’s _coin_ would be wrong repeatedly, giving no care to whatever options he provided it with.

 

“Why do you say that?”

“Because reason’s motivation for existence lies in the socialization process we endure as children, as imposed by our parents. It is born from the need to fit into the social group we depended upon, as a survival tool.”

“Proceed.”

“This survival tool, as it is, impels us by generating neurochemicals that nurture emotions. We mirror the social group’s actions in order to be accepted, because our brain makes us _feel good_ about belonging. Later on, when we are teenagers, developing a sense of self is important to unburden our families, since we are almost able to provide by ourselves. This generates feelings of discomfort, restlessness and rage towards those who are limiting the self to grow.”

 

A veil, as it poses, is a gateway that can lead to an endless number of possibilities. One can never know what it will reveal from its hidden depths, nor can control the abyss that will look back into them. Not to mention the utter responsibility erected for the exposer over the very thing they unleashed into the world.

 

_Our Father,_  
Who art in heaven,  
hallowed be Thy name;  
Thy kingdom come;  
Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.

 

Dr. Lecter is having difficulty dealing with the ever-shifting paradigm the other man presented him with. Hannibal is a man of habit, grace and stability, precisely the reason why he fought tooth and nail for the life to keep the pleasant routine he lead before William Graham swept him off his feet. If the cannibal is the stalker, Will is the lure; if he is the Milky Way, Will made damn sure to wear a gypsy’s skirt and spin around and around so fast he had no other option than to pose as the sun.

 

“So, your conclusion is that reason does not exist; instead, what we call reason is actually a habit imposed in our early lives by the socialization process through pleasant feelings born by the concept of belonging, and what we denominate emotions is simply impulses that do not fit this first desire?”

“That is correct.”

“How does that make you feel, William?”

 

Bedelia warned him about it, of course, but Hannibal chose to ignore her. He is reckless. He is greedy, and careless, and so confident of his own machinations, of their effect upon the professor, he became _predictable._ He thought he could scream and hear the echo of William’s darkness yelling back at him. He thought he was giving him the seeds he needed to join him on developing antlers.

The boy, however, unfurled wings, a fallen angel amongst sinners, rejoicing in newfound feathers. It satisfied him to see they were black; as stained as his own soul, for it proved his influence, the way he forced the other man to swallow dirt enough so to stain him irrevocably. This, however? This _creature_ , whatever that is, is not his design.

 

“Free.”

“Because this logic exempts you from bearing responsibility about your mistakes?”

“Because it allows me to strip from humanity’s hypocrisy.”

“What is it, then, that you become when you outperform human nature, Will?

“You tell me. What do you see when you watch me overcome human nature, Hannibal?”

“You are aware what I think does not matter. What matters is what how you perceive yourself.”

“Since I am trying to fit by your side, the image you have of me does matter. Don’t you agree?”

 

It is _Will’s_ , and no matter how much he tries, or that their designs met and matched perfectly as jigsaw puzzles at first, he cannot not, for the life of him, take credit for this. _This_ did not have his signature, neither could he infer it upon it; _this_ is something that will not bear his mark, no matter what. It will always heal so to return to its previous state, as if nothing ever happened; to acquire the same smooth surface it had before Hannibal managed to reach to it, and its resilience will not be swayed.

 

_Give us this day our daily bread;_  
and forgive us our trespasses  
as we forgive those who trespass against us;  
and lead us not into temptation,  
but deliver us from evil.

 

As with reed, this flirty succubus with gore in its teeth cannot not be stopped or molded by strong winds. In order to achieve its transformation, the only path is to rip its roots from the earth and kill it. The thought of living without his glinting eyes and luscious lips was now unbearable to him.

He thought he was the catalyst to the other man’s metamorphosis, but it is William who changed him. Not only did he forced him out of his person-suit, he also planted on him signs of humanity that were so dormant before, the Doctor believed them to be inexistent, such as lust and jealousy. Flaws and decontrol blossomed, weed tangled to his perfect garden.

 

“Are you allowing your sense of self to mirror mine?”

“It always did. You simply revealed its nature to me.”

“I pictured antlers, Will. I thought you would mirror me, because of your empathic abilities.

“Do you think you’ve pictured it right?”

“Not at all.”

“What did I become, then?”

“I don’t know. But you developed wings, Will. What I see is… wings.”

 

Will is poison, and Hannibal is drinking him greedily.

Moreover, he is clever enough to tie Hannibal’s humanity around his neck, an emotional leash, from which the doctor cannot seem to be able to free himself. He is at his mercy, so to speak, by being at the mercy of his own heart.

Oh, how ironic can life be.

 

_Amen._


	2. Part II - Toying somewhere between love and abuse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sing for me, Hannibal.

 

 

 

 

# Part II – Toying somewhere between love and abuse

 

_Hail Mary, full of grace. The Lord is with thee._

 

“Sing for me, Hannibal.”

 

His sin, he knows, will forever be remembered. Not the killings, no, neither the maiming, are as important as this.

The Lecter family legacy will forever disagree with him, but, for all he tried to, getting closer and closer as Icarus and his melting wings, Hannibal knows he is no God. If such a figure existed, it nurtured equal amounts of distaste and fondness to him, as he, himself, did, each time he took a life brutally, only to be as gentle as possible with the meat that would feed him.

If God means creation and transformation, Lady Death is stillness and comfort. For all he tries to shake hands with God, it is her he courts, her hand he wants to kiss.

 

“Louder. Scream my name. What’s my name? Do you even remember how it sounds?”

 

William is the misplaced angel who, too, loved too much. ‘Tis but his nature, his essence, and as with Lilith and Lucifer, he is daily punished by existing, and existence is punished by his presence.

 

_Blessed art thou amongst women,_

_And blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus._

 

There they are; the predator laying bare, chest to the skies, _an offering_ , holding on for dear life to his alleged prey, who’s devouring him whole and daring God with every moan to look at him and see what does his Grace mean. He knows in his bones Death is too enraptured by them both to take them with her.

 

“I bet you didn’t see this coming. You only saw me as a reflection. Don’t you know? I reflect no one but myself.”

 

His breath is shallow, his pleasure, deep, so he takes, and takes, and _takes_ , until darkness spills into him. He sobs, and it _hurts_ , it hurts so badly, but he holds no fear to pain. Pain does not _exist_. Not in this life.

It all resumes itself in Hannibal, and, as a force of nature, he is not good, nor bad. He simply _is_.

Being is simple, and freeing, and that is exactly where his liberty was born.

 

_Holy Mary, Mother of God,_

_Pray for us sinners,_

_Now and at the hour of our death._

 

Hannibal will never be forgotten for stealing this angel for his pathway to forgiveness and redemption; moreover, he will never be forgiven for the feathers he is plucking, one by one, while the boy sleeps.

Of all the reasons he has for doing it, he knows Jack Crawford, or Alana Bloom, would believe it was done simply because the former Doctor wanted to see if his blood is the same color as his; because he is curious about what will happen.

Neither of them will ever know he does it, every night, because if Will has wings, he can fly, and flying with him Hannibal cannot.

God did not allow Will to get close enough to satisfy him, so he chose Hannibal instead.

And if you ask, Hannibal is considering replacing God, himself.

 

He sings, and what comes out is _‘William, William, William_ ’.

 

_Amen._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
